The One with the Third Brother
by Alayne Hill
Summary: John thinks he's come to know the Holmeses brothers quite well by now, but suddenly he finds himself face to face with a third Holmes genius, who comes crawling back from oblivion just to see how this "friendship" thing is working for his little brother. Actually, Sherlock thinks, he seems a bit *too much* interested in the good doctor. Fluff, humor, Johnlock UST.
1. Chapter 1

The One With the Third Brother.

Chapter One

John Watson ran out of the tube station and into the pouring rain, jogging towards Baker Street as fast as he could without giving the impression to be _desperate_ to get out of the rain and inside a cozy and warm house. He reached 221B and pushed the front door open, shaking off his soaked coat and passing a hand through his short wet hair. The only source of light came from upstairs, barely illuminating the staircase and the hall where he was standing. He glanced at the door to Mrs. Hudson's apartment, but the absence of light from underneath the frame told him that she was not in.

He sighed and shook his wet and cold self one last time before climbing up the stairs, wondering in what state he would find his former housemate. Probably wrapped in his lab coat, covered in stinky and weird looking substances from his latest experiment.

He slowly opened the door to the apartment, taking a few steps in. The living room looked quite the usual, which in this case meant that the floor and furniture were almost completely covered with books and other "it's for an experiment" stuff. The only two elements that had apparently been left untouched by the mess were the two armchairs in the center of the room that faced each other.

John took a deep breath in and walked into the room, looking for his friend. Since he clearly wasn't in the living room the doctor turned towards the kitchen, where a tall man was standing in front of the sink, filling the kettle. He was dressed in an elegant dark blue suit, his dark curls replaced by straight locks that fell just half an inch from the collar of his jacket.

John remained silent for a moment, taking in the sight of those broad shoulders and long legs clasped in expensive – and rather tight – fabric. He snapped out of it quickly enough, mentally slapping himself. He was _not_ attracted by his best friend. He was straight, and _married_.To a_ woman_.

He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back, straightening up as he spoke. "Evening Sherlock… Did you cut your hair?" he bit his lip as the question left his mouth – where did that come from? He didn't give a damn if his friend had decided to change look. Right?

The tall man's shoulder shook as he let out a chuckle, and as he turned to face him, John gasped and let his mouth fall open, eyes wide.

"I'm afraid I'm not the man you are looking for, my friend" His voice was deep, his accent vaguely American, and his bright green eyes were sparkling with humor.

John was too shocked to speak. That man definitely wasn't Sherlock, but the resemblance was so astonishing that he had to close his eyes and silently count to ten before opening them again.

The man was still there, still not Sherlock, but looking painfully like him. An older version of Sherlock, perhaps in his late 40s.

"I.." John mumbled, trying to compose himself. "I'm sorry. I didn't know Sherlock had a visitor" he tried to push back the shock and act normally. "I'm John. John Watson" he offered his right hand to the stranger, forcing a smile.

_This is so weird_. He thought.

The stranger smiled broadly, a flash of perfect white teeth. "Ah, the great Doctor Watson! I've heard so much about you, old sport" he shook his hand enthusiastically.

John nodded, frowning. "Ah.. Good. And you would be?"

The man was still holding John's right hand in his own, while his left hand went to pat the doctor's shoulder, still smiling like a child on Christmas day. John was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second.

"I am a bit disappointed, old sport, I thought my identity would have been obvious to you"

Before he could reveal his identity though, the voice of the one and only consultant detective boomed through the kitchen, evidently annoyed.

"Get your filthy hands off John Watson, Sherrinford!"

**Just a quick note:** I started this fanfiction drawn by a sudden and powerful inspiration, mainly because my best friend and I really want to know more about this mysterious third brother and hope that we'll see him soon enough in the show. Anyhow, consider it an experiment, I will be more than happy to continue it if you guys like it, so please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.

Note: I'm glad some people seem to like my idea, but just FYI a little review would be extremely appreciated. Also, I apologize for any mistake or weird sentence, but unfortunately English is not my first language.

Chapter 2

John Watson was sitting on the couch, face buried in his hands.

"There's another one." was all he kept murmuring.

Sherlock was staring at him from his armchair, his chin resting on the tips of his fingers, his hands clasped together in his usual meditating pose.

Sherrinford Holmes was staring at both of them, casually leaning against the doorframe, his lips curled in a smirk.

"John." Sherlock called. "John!"

John sighed, dreading to look up at his best friend.

"John, stop being boring."

John couldn't help a faint laugh hearing that.

"You two are just adorable." He heard Sherrinford say.

"Shut up." snapped his brother.

John sighed and looked up, fixing his deep blue eyes into Sherlock's greyish ones. "You have another brother."

"Honestly, I can't understand why you're making such a fuss over this, John" Sherlock, as usual, ignored what John had said. "I'm sure either me or Mycroft have mentioned him once or twice.."

"Never" John's voice rose a little, and he cleared his throat. "You've never talked about a third brother."

"What's the matter anyway? John, this is my eldest brother Sherrinford. Sherrinford, forget you ever saw or heard about John Watson."

Sherrinford burst out laughing and took a few steps towards the couch, offering his hand. "It is a pleasure to be officially introduced, Doctor Watson. It was about time." he flashed Sherlock with a disapproving look, shaking his head. "My little brother was never an example of good manners, I'm afraid."

John stared at that face, so similar to his friend's and yet lit up with a gleeful spark that was so unlike the other two Holmeses brothers. Well, at least of the two he knew.

"Are there other siblings you've forgotten to tell me about?" he aasked, frowning.

Sherlock groaned. "No. But really, John, I can't see why you have to be so upset."

John decided to let it go for now, until he had sometime to talk to Sherlock alone. His frown deepened as a voice inside his head told him that he was indeed overreacting, after all Sherlock's private life wasn't exactly any of his business anymore. _Or ever._

Sherrinford went to fetch a glass from the small table next to John's armchair, which was filled with what could only have been whiskey. "I am deeply offended, kiddo, that you wouldn't even mention me to your boyfriend" he complained, and sat in John's armchair, crossing an ankle on his knee. He smiled brightly at the good doctor.

John had widened his eyes, had Sherrinford really just called Sherlock _kiddo_? Normally he would have found it funny, but for some reason he wanted to wipe that smirk off Sherrinford's face.

"John is married, Sherrinford. And no, not to me." Sherlock looked extremely annoyed. "Now, I do believe it's Mycroft's turn to be delighted with your presence, so get out." He pointed lazily at the door, pressing his lips in a tight line.

Sherrinford sighed. "Someone comes back to good ol' England after all these years and his brother doesn't even let him finish his first glass. Seriously, Sherlock, you embarrass me." He winked at John. "Pray tell, Doctor Watson, what brings you to my little brother's abode?" but John didn't have time to answer, because Sherrinford raised a hand to his forehead dramatically "Oh dear me, I'm no better than you, Sherl! How terribly rude of me, would you like something to drink, John?"

John just stared at him for a moment. First _kiddo _and now _Sherl. _He pressed his hand into a fist, and then shook his head. "I'm fine, thank you".

Sherrinford nodded and ranted some more on his brother's failure as a host, to which Sherlock replied by saying that he had never invited _him_ in the first place.

In the meantime, John debated within himself why the fact that Sherlock had never told him about his other brother made him feel so betrayed. He stood up and assumed what Mary called his "Captain Watson pose": straight back and hands clasped behind him. The two Holmeses stopped talking and turned their heads to look at him, both equally surprised.

"Well, I'm sorry I interrupted your family reunion" John said, voice empty. He was trying so hard to remember why he'd come there in the first place, why he had felt so excited to see Sherlock, to tell him… oh yes, that Mary was going to a conference in Edinburgh and would be away for an entire week, and John was wondering if he could temporarily move back to Baker Street while he had the house re-painted. He looked from his friend to his brother, feeling like a fool.

"I.. I just wanted to check in on you, Sherlock, because Lestrade told me you haven't replied to any of his texts lately." He lied, biting his lower lip. "Glad to see you're all right. I'll see you around, take care." He bowed to Sherrinford. "Nice meeting you." and sprinted down the stairs.

_Coward._ He thought, opening the front door and walking into the pouring rain. He had panicked and ran away, and now he felt terribly embarrassed. John Watson was a soldier and a doctor, he had never in his life fled from danger, let alone a highly awkward first encounter with his best friend's eldest brother. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, deciding that he didn't want to think about what impression of him Sherrinford Holmes must have had, and even worse what Sherlock must have thought of his shameful behavior. The face of the mysterious third brother flashed in his mind, his features so similar to Sherlock's, and yet the ironic sparkle in his green eyes, the slightly tanned and wrinkled skin, and the ever present confident smirk couldn't make him look more different from the Holmesness he was used to know.

John had always trusted his guts, especially when faced with strangers that looked powerful and overconfident. If he had to be honest, Sherrinford gave him the creeps, and made him feel so insecure that he felt the need to get as far away from him as he could, in the shortest time possible. His guts told him not to trust that man at all, and yet he had left Sherlock alone with him without even thinking twice about it.

_Well, it's his brother_. He thought. A brother neither him nor Mycroft had ever bothered to mention though, and whose presence Sherlock clearly couldn't wait to get rid of.

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and the woman who was running behind him to get to the Tube station almost knocked him over.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" she yelled at him before disappearing down the stairs.

But John didn't even hear her, he was debating whether he should go back to Baker Street or let Sherlock handle the situation by himself. John mentally cursed at himself for leaving his gun at home.

But then, why would he ever need a gun with Sherrinford Holmes?

Shivers ran down his back and his shoulders contracted painfully at the thought.

He turned abruptly and took a step, but then his cell phone beeped.

_Are you okay? SH_

John laughed at himself, because that was exactly what he should be asking Sherlock.

He stood under the rain, staring at the screen, and then typed back.

_Of course._

_Liar. SH_

John bit his lip and thought about what he could say, but then he shook his head and put his phone back in his pocket, and went to get the Tube.

He was being stupid, of course Sherlock would be fine. Just because Sherrinford had seemed so weirdly enthusiastic about John, it didn't mean that he was a threat.

Plus, John had decided that he would go get his gun first, before going back and apologize for his rudeness.

Just to be sure.


End file.
